


Bloodletting

by adambarium



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Happy Ending, Human Eiji, M/M, POV Second Person, Vampire Ash, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-07 03:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adambarium/pseuds/adambarium
Summary: A vampire finds himself corrupting a naive photographer.





	1. An Angel

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i binged the anime and immediately started writing this so i don't know anything but i did my best.
> 
> cw for attempted rape in this chapter.

You meet him when he saves you.

It’s nearing midnight and you’re in America, in New York City, so despite the hour it feels like no one is sleeping. You’re in a bar, asking the bartender questions— _Where are you from? How long have you lived here?_ —while getting increasingly intoxicated. You have no real reason to ask these questions other than that it feels good to show off your English skills; you’ve come a long way and you’re good, you know you are, everyone you meet thinks so. You also just can’t help it; you’re a curious person, and everyone you’ve met in this city so far intrigues you.

You’ve forgotten the name of the bar, lit up in neon on the sign outside, but it’s decently full for a late night. Your head is swimming, it feels like. You aren’t a drinker, really, you’re just nervous about tomorrow, and it’s a special occasion. Ibe had no interest in going out, but you insisted on celebrating somehow. You didn’t intend to be out this late.

You feel, then, as if eyes are on you, but every time you glance around the area, you can’t see anyone looking.

“I think I’m out of money,” you tell the bartender, voice like mud, when she asks if you’d like another round.

“You should probably start heading home anyway,” she says.

“You’re right. I think you’re right. I need directions.” You fumble your phone out of your pockets and into your hands, trying to pull up your Maps app. Your fingers aren’t behaving correctly.

“Oh, honey. Have this.” She walks away briefly and returns with a plastic cup of water. “Drink this. And stay safe. You don’t look like you’d be used to late night New York City streets.”

“Thank you, miss.” You accept it before rising from your stool. You finally pulled up directions. Even if you were sober you aren’t sure you’d be able to find your way; this city is so confusing.

The cool air hits you like a sucker punch when you step outside, so much so that you have to take a second to lean against the brick and adjust. You feel the familiar watched feeling again and dismiss it to start walking.

After ten minutes or so, when the streets you’ve wandered into get less busy, you can hear the distinct sound of footsteps just behind you. You turn, squinting and red-faced, to see two men in long coats, both taller than you. You stand up straighter, and try to appear less wobbly. “Oh, hello.”

“You’re up late,” one says, in a gravelly voice.

“I’m on my way home.”

The other steps forward. “You don’t seem too sober.”

“I had—I had a few drinks.”

“Are you even old enough to drink? You look like a child.”

“I’m nineteen,” you say defensively, before remembering the American drinking age is twenty-one. But the bartender had given you drinks—you’d gone somewhere shady?

“That’s a funny accent you have there,” the first one speaks again. He reaches to grip your chin harshly and examines your mouth, like he could determine your country of origin by the shape of your lips. “You speak English really well, you know that?”

“I know.” Your voice sounds mushy from the way he’s scrunching your cheeks in his grip. You try to peel his fingers off but you know your own grip is lacking dexterity.

“Do you know what ‘fucking’ means?”

The other laughs and starts unzipping his pants, getting closer. “How about ‘pleasure?’”

“Please,” you say, beg. You can feel panic rising quickly within you. Your full body struggles in his hold now, grasping desperately at the man’s hands holding you. Your words slur together. “I’m just trying to get home—“

“Don’t close your eyes,” he says, voice sultry. He’s in your face.“I want you to see everything.”

Then his whole body seems to freeze. His eyes go wide. Blood pools on his front, at his stomach, and he drops to his knees. The man holding you releases you, and you nearly fall to the ground with the way you sway on your feet. “What the fuck?” he says, shocked, afraid.

A stranger appears just feet away. He wears a blue jacket and dark pants. His white shirt beneath is stained with splatters of red.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The stranger looks up. His blond hair is long and good at hiding behind, but when he looks up you gasp: he has red eyes. The man shouts in fear and takes a fighting stance. His voice is deep with fear and hatred. “Leech!”

He stands no chance. Their moves are hard to follow with your eyes that don’t seem to want to focus on anything, but the scuffle doesn’t last long before the man spews blood from his neck and the stranger kneels before you.

He has red eyes that bear intensely into your brown ones, but all you see is a savior. “Are you an angel?” you ask.

He stops his movement, in shock, before laughing at you. “In your dreams. Let me help you stand.”

He takes one of your arms to throw around his neck and wraps his own arm around your waist. You lean heavily against him when he stands you up. He’s cold, and so is the night, and the wind. You shiver into him, and he bristles.

“I have to get back,” you mumble.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

“Thank you,” you say quickly, before you forget to. “You saved me. You killed them.”

“Be quiet,” he says. “Sober up, and thank me in the morning.”

“Oh!” you say suddenly, remembering. “My water, where’s my water?” You must have dropped it when they grabbed you; you didn’t even notice.

“I’ll get you more water.”

“Thank you, thank you—what’s your name?”

“Ash.”

“Ash…. Thank you, Ash.”

Your feet slack in carrying yourself, dragging along the sidewalk. He hoists you back up onto them, effortlessly, like you’re a purse he’s hiked up on his shoulder. “You’re welcome,” he says, and you don’t remember anything else.

*

You wake up feeling like hell. Your mouth is dry and you have a piercing headache at the forefront of your skull. You can taste bile in the back of your throat—you threw up?

He’s not around. You’re in a small room with blank brick walls and eerily clean white sheets on the bed. There’s a desk and books strewn along the floor. There’s also a small table with a single chair pushed away from it. The trash can, you notice, is pointedly by the bed. You sit up, groaning at the pain the movement causes in your head.

The doorknob to the room turns and the door is open. And there he is—what was his name? He told you, you remember him telling you… you can’t remember if you ever told him yours.

His head of lush blond hair is the most distinct thing about him, followed by the intensity of his red eyes. He seems startled that you’re awake.

“Hello.” Your voice is like a frog’s.

“Good morning, Eiji.” His own is strangely alluring. He reaches into a mini fridge that you hadn’t noticed before and procures a glass of water. “Here.”

You guess he answered the question about your name. “Thank you,” you say.  “I can’t remember your name. I’m sorry.”

“Ash.”

This sparks your memory: he not only told you his name last night, but you’d repeated it many, many times back to him, loudly. “Oh. Right.” You drink your water, your face hot.

“What do you remember?” he asks you.

“Drinking. Walking home. There were men….” You look up suddenly, your eyes wide. “You killed them. They’re dead.”

“I did. They were going to rape you.” Ash leaned against his desk. “You were vulnerable.

Defenseless.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself. I’m not appalled, I’m impressed,” you clarify for him. “You saved my life. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“Don’t repay me. I was just making sure you survived the night. I’m taking you home today.”

“You’re a vampire,” you say with stunning clarity. You have to say it, it’s been burning on your tongue even from the moment the nasty word hit you in the night’s chill: _leech_. You’ve never met one before, not ever. You know they’re around, but in Japan they’re nearly indiscernible from humans. They wear contacts and receive government-sanctioned blood. Their lives are a secret, and crimes by them are low. American vampires, from what you gathered, are significantly worse in behavior. They have to find their own blood supply, and their punishment upon being discovered can be severe.

Ash levels his gaze at you. “Yes.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Yes,” he says. “You seem sober enough to me. I’m driving you home now. Get up.”

You stand from the bed. “Will I see you again?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You said it yourself. I’m a monster.” He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“That’s not a bad thing,” you rush out. “I’m a photographer, if you want to know. I’d love to take a few shots of you. Your eyes….”

He waits for you to finish your sentence, but you don’t know how to, and he huffs. “Don’t you have anyone who will be worried about you?”

“Ibe!” you exclaim, panicked. You search your person and the bedsheets for your phone. “Oh, he’s probably called the cops already. Where’s my phone, is it dead?”

“It was.” Ash walks over to an outlet and unplugs your phone from the wired charger before tossing it to you. You don’t catch it, on account of being awfully hungover, and have to pick it up from the floor.

“Thank you,” you say. You bring a palm to your head in a futile attempt to soothe it. When you check your phone, your suspicions are proven correct: you have twenty missed calls and forty-two unread texts. “Oh, he must be worried sick. I feel horrible.”

You call him. Ash is watching you, expression unreadable, and you look away nervously at the books on the floor instead. Ibe picks up immediately. “Ei-chan! Where are you, huh?”

He spoke in Japanese and you respond in kind, forgetting to consider whether or not Ash might find it rude. “I’m so sorry, Ibe. I was out drinking at some bar and got caught up.”

“Are you alright? Why didn’t you come back to the apartment?”

“I just drank too much. I’m staying with—with someone I met. Actually, I won’t be back for a while.”

“Someone you _met_?” Ibe says. You can imagine him on the other side of the line: brows furrowed, lines on his forehead. This isn’t the type of thing you do, and you know it. “Who? Where are you?”

You realize it’d be unwise to admit that you have no idea where you are, so you neglect to answer the question. “I’m with a man named Ash.” Ash raises an eyebrow when you say his name. You offer him a smile that he doesn’t return. “I’ll be home later today, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Ibe grumbles. “You know we have the shoot today, Ei-chan. I guess I don’t care what you do beforehand, but you better be there in time.”

“Of course. Thank you for worrying about me, Ibe.”

“I’ll never stop.”

“I’ll see you later.”

When you hang up, Ash speaks immediately. “You’re Japanese. Are you American?”

“No, I’m visiting,” you tell him, in English, of course. “I told you, I’m a photographer. Well, a photographer’s assistant. We’re doing an important shoot this week.”

He’s silent for a few moments. You study his face: it’s really beautiful, almost feminine. His cheekbones are sharp, and he might be hairless, though with his blond hair you would have to look closer. His hair frames his face beautifully, it’s long but layered, not too long, just right. He has blond lashes that frame his eyes: deep red, the color of fresh blood, or a rose.

“Not the face,” he says, turning away from you.

You blink. “What?”

“Do you have a camera?”

His meaning dawns on you and you brighten, excited. “My phone will suffice.”

He helps you stand from the bed. “Follow me.”

On the way out the door, you ask him a question. “Do you have an Aspirin?”

*

You notice his shoes as he leads you. They’re red Converse, a far color from the shade of his eyes, but they compliment him well, anyway. He’s wearing the same jeans from the night before, and maybe the same white shirt, but his jacket is gone.

He leads you through what you assume is his home. The lack of windows tells you that it’s underground, and he leads you to a staircase that opens into a bar.

“You live under a bar?” you whisper to him, because there are a few other people sitting around and you don’t want to draw their attention. It was pointless, anyway; Ash’s appearance drew everyone’s heads.

“Good morning, Ash!” A child waves emphatically before getting up from his chair in the corner to walk over. The other people he was sitting with turn their attention away. The child is black with a small afro, and a big smile. “Who is this?”

“Eiji,” Ash says. He looks at you and cocks his head towards the kid. “And this is Skipper.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You hold out your hand but Skipper only stares at it and then at you as if you were holding out a squashed bug.

“Why is he with you?” Skipper asks. “He was downstairs?”

“I’ll explain some other time,” Ash says.

“Does he know?”

“He only knows what I am.”

Skipper goes quiet and looks at you for a few moments before saying, “Nice to meet you, too,” and going back to his table.

“What did he mean?” you ask. Ash walks behind the bar to grab something and comes back to you with a few pills to accompany the water in your hand. “Do I know what?”

“I’m not getting you involved with anything. Swallow these for your head.”

You do, but your curiosity hasn’t faded. “Involved?”

“Look, you’re here to wake up a little more and snap a few shots before you leave, forever. So take your pictures.” When he turns from you you see a gun in his pants. He must have grabbed that from behind the bar as well.

“Is that real?” You point to it.

He follows your gesture and answers, “Yes.”

“Can I hold it?”

The question hangs in the air between you. Ash takes the gun from his waist and slowly passes it to your hands; the movement garners the bar’s attention. The gun is much heavier than you would have thought, a solid unit in your grasp. You slide your hand over the smooth metal. You’ve never even seen a gun in the flesh before, let alone touched one. And Ash held it so confidently. You glance up at him.

That’s when a gunshot whizzes by your head. It shatters the front glass window to the bar and the bottles lined up on the wall in front of you, sending wine and glass shards spilling to the floor. Faster than light Ash snatches the gun from your hands and shoves you behind the counter. “Stay down!” he yells.

There’s violence around you. Gunshots and movement, the sounds of punches and grunts. “Come home, Ash!” you hear, a man’s voice. Ash runs by you and scoops you to your feet like you’re nothing. He has your arm and you’re both running back down the stairs, the way you came, only he leads you into a different door from the one that was his bedroom. This one leads into a tunnel.

“What’s happening?” You’re out of breath and shaking, shaking so badly. The first gunshot was so close to your head, you could’ve died, and for what? The door closes behind you and you’re left in the silence of the underground tunnel, a silence that seemed damning. “Your bar is destroyed—”

“Fuck the bar. Don’t stop moving, Eiji, come on.”

He helps you start to move again, and then you’re both running. He matches his pace with yours but he’s fast moving, not even close to out of breath. Every one of your muscles is burning. “What’s on the other side of this tunnel?” you gasp out.

Behind you you hear the sound of the door opening, and footsteps rush inside, crashing hard against the ground and shattering the silence.

“A ride.”

Ahead of you there’s a dead-end, only a small sliver of light from above illuminating the ground. Ash turns to you and speaks fast. “I’m going to toss you up.”

“But how are you going to get up?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

He has his hands on your waist then—the touch is more intimate than you’d expected—and he tosses you lightly to the world. You manage to pull yourself up onto the asphalt. You’re in an alley in some abandoned street. It’s daylight outside and cars whizz by, unbeknownst to the violence happening below. You wonder if anyone died in the scuffle, and if not, where they went.

Ash appears beside you and moves the grate to cover the whole completely. In the alley there’s a motorcycle that he goes toward quickly.

“That’s yours?” you ask.

“Obviously. Sit behind me, Eiji.”

You swing a leg to sit yourself behind him. You don’t hold onto him until he starts moving and your hands wrap around his middle for dear life. You cling to him and close your eyes as you shoot past tall buildings, weave in and out of small streets. It would be relaxing, if your life wasn’t in danger. Ash brings the speed down to something normal and this prompts you to ask, “Will they chase us this far?”

“No. They just wanted me, but they’ll get over it.”

“What for?”

“I told you, I’m not involving you in this,” he says. “Direct me to your apartment so I can drop you off. You have a photoshoot to get to, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you grumble.

You direct him, with help from your phone, to your apartment, which is a high-rise building in a better part of the city, far from the ghetto that Ash was staying in. The two of you look out of place riding up on a motorcycle: you with wind-swept hair and an unkempt appearance, and Ash, with blood on his clothes and a mean look about him. You get off the motorcycle.

“Thank you,” you say, sincerely.

“You nearly died, don’t fucking thank me for anything.”

You frown, and he looks away. He’s upset, but you think it’s more with himself than with you. “Will I see you again?”

“Not if I can help it.” He revs the motorcycle. “Just stay safe and stay gone.”

He leaves, and it seems abrupt, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You wipe down your shirt and try to straighten yourself up as you go into the building: tuck it back in, run your fingers through your hair, wash your hands and face in the nearest restroom sink. When you finally make it to your room you realize that you didn’t even get one picture of Ash, and you curse to yourself as you open your door with your keycard.

“Ei-chan?” Ibe calls from inside.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re alive.” Ibe greets you with a tight hug. He steps away with a wrinkled nose. “You reek of liquor and dirt.”

“That’s not very nice!” you say, smiling, trying to make a joke out of it. You’re expressive, and it’s because of this that you know you’re not very good at lying. “I had a weird night.”

“What happened, Eiji?”

“Nothing.” You stay faced away from him so he can’t see your face. You’re slowly making your way to the bathroom so that you can shower. “Ash kept me safe.”

“I thought you could take care of yourself.”

“My headache is too strong for word games,” you tell him. “I’m going to take a shower, and then we can go.”

“We should probably leave earlier than we should,” Ibe says. “I hear that Golzine isn’t a man who likes to be kept waiting.”

You turn to him to make your promise. “I’ll be fast.”


	2. A Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for talk of past child abuse and descriptions of gore.

Club Cod, from what you’ve been told, is an upper class restaurant in Manhattan, serving prime seafood bred and butchered locally. Ibe is the real journalist and photographer assigned to the job of interviewing Dino Golzine and writing up the column. Since he is, you’re happy to let him do most of the talking.

“We are here for the interview with Dino Golzine.” His accent is stronger than yours. He’s speaking to the host at the front who nods once, wordlessly, and leads you through a door in the back. Ibe exchanges a glance with you and you shrug, shouldering the heavy camera bag up higher.

“My name is Ibe Shunichi,” he tells the host, by way of making conversation. “This is my assistant, Eiji. We are glad to be here.”

The man glances at him distastefully before stopping his pace at a large, ornate door. He knocks confidently, thrice, and speaks. “The Japanese interviewer is here.”

A low voice from inside responds. “Come in.”

Dino is sitting at a long table eating his own meal. It looks to be something grilled. His head is bald but his thick mustache is prominent enough, as is his hard stare. He carefully cuts himself off a piece before impaling it with his fork and sticking it in his mouth. He chews slowly, expression unchanging, before swallowing.

Ibe is just as frozen as you are. The man is intimidating when he looks up at you both, twice as intimidating as Ash was the night before, even with his red eyes. Dino himself has brown ones.

“Your name is Ibe, correct?” He speaks first.

This kicks Ibe into introductions. “Yes! That is me. I am here with my assistant photographer. His name is Eiji.”

“You hired a child?”

“I’m nineteen,” you say. This type of interaction was familiar; you looked young even among Japanese men.

“A child.” He pushes away from the table, his chair screeching on the floor, and stands. “Very well. Let’s take your pictures, and ask your questions. I assume you both know the truth of this place.”

“The truth?” You have no idea what he’s referencing.

He smiles at you. The look he has makes you feel transparent before him. “How adorable. You’ve kept it from him, Ibe? Is he partial to vampires?”

“Vampires?”

“I had no time to explain,” Ibe explains to you as an aside, quickly, quietly. “I figured it would be a nice surprise, to learn about vampires here in America—”

“I’d appreciate it if you spoke in English when in my presence.”

You both look at Dino. You hadn’t even noticed Ibe had switched to Japanese, but you both nod your obedience, Ibe especially. He says, “My apologies, Mr. Golzine! It will not happen again! I was simply explaining to Eiji that I had no time to tell him about—”

“Calm down, Ibe,” Dino says. He steps closer, and you realize just how tall he is, when standing closer to you. “I’ll happily explain for you. Come with me, both of you.”

He takes you both into the hallway again. “Get your cameras ready.”

He guides you to a room that has you gasping. The smell of blood, thick and permeating, invades your senses so much so that you feel a sudden wave of nausea. Strangely, the room is spotless despite this, with not a speck of dirt or debris anywhere on the blank walls. The only messes are contained, and along the perimeter. Humans, dead, hang by their ankles and drip into separate pans. Your hand goes to your mouth, your eyes wide.

“We are righteous,” Dino says, his voice dreadful. “We slay those that are inferior and we don’t waste a drop. Every bit of leakage goes to someone out there.”

“You’re a vampire.” You turn to look at his eyes.

He smiles. “You’re curious about my eye color? I am wearing contacts, of course. Most of us do. Does this surprise you?”

You ignore his question, unwilling to bring the memory of Ash’s eyes, his voice, the blood on his clothes and combine it with this: murder, and gore. “This is illegal.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t do this.”

“You’re mouthy.” He doesn’t look away from you when he speaks to your partner. “Ibe, I suggest you quiet your assistant.”

“Ei-chan,” Ibe says to you. “Listen to him, trust me. Just take pictures.”

You frown, pointedly, and move to unzip your camera bag. “Yes, sir.”

The pictures you capture are nightmares encapsulated. Pictures of the bodies, drained and with stained skin, dried blood flaking off of them. The color of the blood is dark, so much darker than anything you’ve ever seen. You watch the employees with their black gloves and cruel eyes pour the blood with careful hands into beer-sized bottles, one by one. There is a purification process, Dino explains, but most vampires prefer this: the raw, uninhibited flavor of a human, with all its filths and zest. He eyes you like you’re a treat, and you wither under his stare.

Ibe sits with Dino to interview him properly, and you snap a few pictures of them, of him. You’re ordered to go into the restaurant, into the kitchens, and take pictures of the real food: the meat, the patrons, the employees. By the time the session is over, you’re sick to your stomach, but you’ve obeyed Ibe’s order. You hadn’t spoken unless spoken to, and you managed to hold in your sick.

The two of you exit the building to go towards your car in the parking lot. Near to the building, you see something that takes you completely by surprise: Ash’s motorcycle is parked near the entrance of the building. It wasn’t there when you arrived. You would have noticed.

“Wait,” you say to Ibe, who stops.

“What is it?”

“I have to see something.” You start towards the restaurant again.

“Ei-chan, what are you—”

“I’ll meet you in the car soon! Don’t follow me, just give me ten minutes.”

He looks frustrated with you but mostly confused. When he doesn’t follow, you take this for acceptance and continue on your way. The red motorcycle is parked at the side of the building, so you walk around that way. You see a door being opened and catch a glimpse of the blond figure that disappears inside it. You rush to catch it before it closes for fear of it locking behind him. You almost want to call out his name, but the fear of being wrong about his identity stops you, as well as the fear of being caught. When he disappears around a corner, you slip inside the door.

Just faintly, you hear Dino’s voice. It’s coming from a door with an eye slot that has been left open. You have to stand on your tiptoes to see, but when you do you see him. Ash. You don’t know why this shocks you; it makes sense that vampires in close regions stick together, especially if Dino’s business in particular is selling their food, but something about the situation has you feeling uneasy. Ash is standing stiffly in his blue jacket, watching Dino casually roam the room as he speaks, relaxed as ever. You try your best to focus on the words being said.

“I thought you’d never find your way back to me.”

“No, you didn’t.” Ash’s voice, clear as a bell, fills you with such an intense desire to speak with him that you have to physically stop yourself from opening the door.

“No. I didn’t,” Dino agrees. “I’m glad that you’ve come, Ash. I actually have something to ask you.”

“I’m not here to play twenty questions.”

“Luckily, it’s not really a question.” He’s holding a cup. He takes a moment to take a sip, and swirls the drink around. “I heard that you were with a boy.”

There’s a rigid pause. Ash says, “I wasn’t.”

Dino smiles. “It’s amusing that you think you can lie to me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“My men described him to me,” he continues. “Japanese, young-looking male. He ran with you without hesitation.” You can’t see Dino’s expression but you can see Ash’s lips tighten. “What’s his name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ash says, defensive. “I don’t know him, he means nothing to me.”

“His name is Eiji, actually,” Dino replies. He sets his cup down. “I spoke with him today.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s a photographer. He’s plucky.”

“He has nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t particularly want to talk about him, anyway,” Dino says. “You know exactly why I want to see you.”

Ash is silent.

“I’ll ask you once more,” Dino says. “And this is the last time I’m asking nicely. Ash. Won’t you come home?”

He had stepped closer, so that he covers most of Ash’s body now. You can still see Ash’s face over Dino’s shoulder: cold, fiery. “I’d rather die.”

“If you neglect to watch your mouth you may find yourself in the position of that happening.” Dino raises a hand to cup Ash’s cheek. “Why are you so difficult, Ash?” His hand moves gently, caressing his skin. Ash is frigid under the touch. “You were such a lovely boy.”

You’re watching the interaction intensely enough that you notice immediately when Ash’s red gaze drifts from Dino’s face to over his shoulder and directly at you. They widen just a fraction, an imperceptible reaction. Ash takes a step back. He’s looking directly at the floor, his posture subdued. “I’m not staying.”

“A pleasure, as always.”

“I won’t be coming back.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Before Ash can respond he adds, “To me, you are.”

Ash walks by him to the door instead of arguing this, and you finally back up from it so that you’re not visible when it opens. When he exits he holds a finger to his lips and stalks past you, toward the direction of the door you’d entered from. You hasten to follow. Once outside, you reach to touch his arm, and he hisses, “Don’t touch me! What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Why don’t you wear contacts?” You don’t know why the question is on your mind, but it is. His eyes are so blatantly red, even though Dino Golzine himself chose to hide his identity, and according to him most vampires did.

Ash shoves you once, hard enough to make your back hit the wall behind you. “Answer the fucking question, Eiji.”

“I interviewed him,” you say. “Dino. Or, I took pictures…. I told you I had a shoot.”

“He knows who you are now. I can’t afford to protect you,” he says. “You need to go home. Or at least stay away from me.”

“I already know what this place is,” you argue. “I know that you are a vampire, and so is he, and everything you do here is illegal and immoral—”

“I bet you don’t know the half of it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Excuse me.”

Ibe’s voice startles the both of you. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. He’s standing several feet away. He walks closer with an annoyed expression on his face, as well as one of curiosity.

“Ibe,” you say.

“It’s been more than ten minutes. Who is this?”

“This is Ash. From last night, you remember.” It’s jarring seeing the two of them together. You imagine Ash, murdering two men both bigger than him in what seemed like an instant, and Ibe, taking you in after you’d suffered serious injury, bringing you snacks in the hospital and making funny faces at you from his chair behind the nurse when she’d check your vitals. “Ash, this is Ibe, my friend and boss.”

“Last night,” Ibe says flatly, but he’s polite as he puts out his hand to shake. “It is good to meet you, Ash. I have not heard much about you.”

Surprisingly to you, Ash does shake his hand. “I’d like to keep it that way, if you don’t mind.”

“Can you give me just two more minutes to say goodbye to him, Ibe?” you ask. “If you bring the car up, by the time you do, I’ll be ready.”

He grumbles his assent to this and wanders off with a, “Was nice meeting you,” to Ash, who doesn’t respond.

You turn to him. “Have dinner with me.”

“Dinner?” He seems genuinely surprised by this request.

You nod. “I’ll come find you. We can go anywhere.”

He waits a long, agonizing moment before saying, “Okay.”

“I’ll find you at your home tonight. That was where I woke up, right? That’s where you live?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be there?”

He sticks his hands in his jacket pockets, something you take for a nervous gesture. “I’ll be there.”

*

When you ask Ibe how he’s going to reveal the truth about Club Cod, later that night when you’re both sitting in the apartment, he makes a pained expression. “I’m not.”

“What?”

He sighs. “I have to be honest with you, Ei-chan. It was the American police that assigned me to this job. There is a sort of big scheme, to shut the place down, or maybe even elevate it, I don’t know. They don’t tell me much. But my job was to get photos of the bloodletting and the reasoning behind the grandmaster’s head. I knew all along that he is a very dangerous man.”

“So, what? What kind of review are you going to write?”

“I was told to write a positive review,” he says. “I will use the pictures you took later on, of the food, staff, and environment.”

You make a disapproving noise. “I don’t believe the police would want to promote that kind of place.”

“Me neither. But this is my job for now.” He has his laptop on his lap. He’s analyzing the pictures you’d taken earlier. “And listen, Ei-chan… when this review is done, when my business with the police is done—that’s only a week’s time—we’re going home to Japan. We can’t stay here. I don’t want to get mixed up in this mafia business, and I especially don’t want  _ you _ getting mixed up in it. Understand?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

He doesn’t know tonight’s plan, and you don’t tell him.

Hours later, when he finally takes his eyes from you, when he’s finally asleep, you swipe the keys to the rental car from the kitchen counter. Ibe is passed out on the couch, draped across it. The laptop is still open and on his lap.

You exit the apartment, careful to lock the door behind you.

*

Ash had boarded up the windows to his bar, so that it really matched the neighborhood around it: poor, dangerous, slum-like. After parking, you go up to the door and knock timidly. You’re not sure what you’re expecting; it’s much too late to have a proper dinner, and you’re not sure how long you’ll even be able to stay up for. Being outside is also terrifying for you now. You don’t want a run-in with anyone else, ever.

Ash opens the door. He’s taller than you, more so with you’re scared slouching. You straighten your back upon seeing him. “Hello,” you say.

“It got late,” he responds. “I didn’t think you’d come. It’s not safe to be out here this late. Get in here.”

“Of course I came,” you say. He ignores you, already pulling you in, and shutting and locking the door behind.

The bar is still a mess, but the tables that were overturned have been righted, and the spilled liquor and glass on the floor has been cleaned up for the most part. The lack of natural lighting gives it the similar underground feel of Ash’s bedroom, which isn’t actually unpleasant. He leads you directly past it and to the stairs, and down into his kitchen.

“How long have you lived here?”

“It’s not just me that lives here,” he says without turning to look at you. “I only came after running from Papa Dino. Around two years ago.”

“Running?” you ask. “But you were just with him.”

“It’s complicated.” He reaches into one of his cabinets and pulls out a bottle of what you’d guess is whiskey. “Want a drink?”

“S-sure….” There are doors lining the walls of the hallway nearby. His comment about living alone has you wondering. “Is anyone else here now?”

“Most of the time, yes,” he answers while pouring two glasses. “But not tonight. I asked everyone to be gone. Don’t look at me like that, they’ll be just fine. Vampires don’t sleep, anyway.”

“Everyone you live with is a vampire?”

He hands you a glass and takes a sip from his own. “I don’t like humans.”

You analyze your situation. You are underground, with no weapons or means to defend yourself, with a vampire and possibly more than one if he was lying. A vampire who holds no apparent shame in his eyes, and who was clearly formerly involved with a corrupted place like Club Cod, which murders without remorse. Strangely, you don’t feel afraid. He’s looking at you—not gently, but not in a heinous way either. He’s only waiting for your response. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Can I have something to eat with these drinks?”

“As you might expect, we don’t have a lot of food in here.” But he rifles through his cabinets for what he does have. He pulls out a brand of cheap ramen and a bowl. “If this will do.”

“Speaking of food,” you say. “Dino was eating when Ibe and I went to him. He chewed, swallowed, and everything.”

“Dino is a master.” He speaks while he pulls out a pot to boil water, his back to you. “It takes incredible discipline to do that. All food tastes like dirt. Like shit.”

“Can you do it?” you ask.

He gives you a look over his shoulder. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

“I can,” he says. “I used to be human. I remember what stuff like ramen tasted like, sort of. But it’s disgusting to me now. So I won’t.”

“What does blood taste like?”

“You’ve been alive for, how long? Seventeen years?”

“Nineteen.”

“Damn, you’re older than me? I guess that makes sense.” He huffs. “Anyway, I refuse to believe that in that time you’ve never tasted blood. You know what it tastes like.”

He’s right, you do. Tangy and metallic. Unpleasant. You shrug the subject off. “How old are you, then?”

“Seventeen.”

“What?” you exclaim. He doesn’t look so young. You would have guessed he was at least your age. “You’re not even an adult?”

“Not until August.”

“Wow….”

Your ramen is flavored and finished, and the smell that saturates the room is amazing. You accept it graciously. “Thank you, Ash.”

“Can’t have my human starving.” This makes you blush, for some reason. “Besides, I’ve had enough of wasted Eiji. You threw up on my shoes, you know. I had to change them.” He takes another sip from his glass.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Thank you for doing this, by the way. I know you didn’t have to make time for me.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know why I’m doing it.”

“I appreciate it anyway.” You chat as you eat. “Earlier, you said that I don't know the half of it, about Club Cod. About Dino. What don’t I know?”

He deliberates before he answers you. Even as he does you can see he looks unsure of himself, aware that he shouldn’t be telling you anything. “It’s not just murdering people. Papa Dino and his gang are perverts. They use children for blood when it’s too dangerous to murder more people in the area. And they use children in other ways. Runaways, orphans, the children of junkies and people we’ve killed. They lift them off the streets and put them to work, giving blood or sex for money.”

“No,” you say, unwilling to believe it.

“It’s a special secret. You probably saw no children while you were there. Even if Dino showed you everything else, he wouldn’t show you his slaves.”

“That’s horrible.”

He purses his lips. The words escape from him reluctantly, almost like he feels compelled to speak them. “I was one of them,” he says, quietly. He stares into his drink as he talks. “I’d run away from home. I was eight. I was Dino’s personal pet.”

You have a death grip on your fork. “No….”

“He turned me, then. And so I had no choice but to stay. Vampires age, you know, up to a certain point, before stopping. I don’t know when. I was terrified when I was turned. The pain of your insides transforming, your skin toughening, your eyes changing color…. it’s worse than anything you can possibly imagine. And then starving….

“I had Dino. I obeyed him, and he loved me, so I didn’t starve. It was only after running that I experienced starvation for the first time. It’s a terrible feeling, Eiji. You completely lose yourself. You’re just a mindless vessel looking for blood. I don’t like humans, for their weakness and their unfounded hate for what I am. But thinking of me like that, I understand. I wouldn’t want anything like a hungry vampire near me.”

There’s silence between you. Tentatively, you ask, “Are you hungry now?”

He smirks. “No. Just yesterday I had two rapists.” Your face pales. “I should have saved something for later, but I couldn’t help myself. I drained both of them.”

You swallow. “Wow….”

“Does that scare you?”

“No.” It’s the truth. “You could never scare me.”

His smirk turns into a real smile then. You think you can see affection in his eyes, but he looks away. “Is that so?”

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, Ash,” you say, because you don’t want to gloss over his confession of his past, you want to address it directly. “No child should have to go through anything like that….”

“It’s not your fault.”

“If I could kill Dino, I would,” you promise. “In a heartbeat.”

He gestures to you with his glass. “You better watch your mouth. You never know who’s listening.” He drinks from it. “Thank you. But don’t concern yourself. I can handle Dino just fine all by myself.”

“Can you even get drunk?” The thought occurs to you as he swallows the whiskey, making a face as he does. His glass is nearly gone, while yours is still mostly full, on account of whiskey and ramen not going super well together. You finish up your bowl and shove it aside.

He laughs at your inquiry. “Finally, a decent question. Yes, Eiji, I can get drunk. I just have a higher tolerance. But it’s probably not hard to have a higher tolerance than you.”

You frown and, to show him off, drain the rest of your glass.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re going to be feeling that in twenty minutes.”

The taste was horrible, and you’re still making a face from it. Your voice comes out pinched. “I’ll be fine.”

“Come here.” He brings the empty bowl to the sink and leads you to his bedroom. It’s virtually unchanged from the last time you were here: the bed is made, the books are still on the floor. The chair has been pushed in. Ash closes the door.

“Why did you bring me in here?”

“I know everyone’s gone, but it still felt too open.” He steps closer to you. Only seventeen, you think. But he manages to be taller, stronger, more intimidating. His hand comes up to rest lightly on your neck, and the touch makes you shiver. His hand is cold.

“This is more private,” you agree. You’re confused as to what he’s leading up to.

It doesn’t take him long to show you. He says your name, “Eiji,” and it sounds so much like a kiss that it blends seamlessly into your lips when he leans forward and actually kisses you. His lips are as cold as the rest of him. Your mind is frozen and you can’t think but your body can move: automatically you open for him when he wants more, and push back harder when he does. You fit perfectly, you think, and you know that he could easily overpower you, could hurt you or make you do anything he wanted, but you know he wouldn’t. You’re both giving exactly how much the other needs; it feels like a reflex, something neither of you have to think about to do.

When he pulls away, you’re breathless. You’ve never kissed a man before. You’ve never kissed anyone before. His body is so close to yours, and you feel hot all over. You know you’re blushing. You must look ridiculous, but he looks at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t know why.

“I kissed you first.”

“You like me?” This is the most unbelievable thing. He doesn’t seem the type to like anyone at all.

“I hate humans,” is his reply. His hands are worming their way up your shirt and over your stomach. He leans in close, closing his eyes. “You’re just the exception. Only you.”

He kisses you again and this time you’re ready for it. Your hands are on his waist, and then his shoulders, holding on tight. When his thumb under your shirt slides over your nipple you moan involuntarily and then turn bright red at the sound. “Sorry,” you say again.

“Don’t apologize.” He tugs at your shirt, clearly itching to get it off. “Be loud for me. No one is around.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

This does give him pause. “You’ve never had sex?” he asks.

You fidget, drawing your knees together to adjust the erection in your jeans. “I’ve never kissed anyone,” you confess.

He nods. “Okay.” He places both hands on either side of your face and kisses you chastely, lips closed. Your eyes flutter shut. “May I take you to bed?”

“Please.” You can’t say the word fast enough.

He takes your hand and leads you to his bed. He sits you down first before crawling onto your lap. He’s lean, but muscled, and when he sits you can feel the hardness in his jeans on yours. He kisses you again. “Take your shirt off,” he says.

You do, and he takes off his own. His chest is perfect: there are scars on it, places where he’s previously been slit or stabbed, and he clearly is active with the abs that he has. You’re aware that you’re staring but he seems equally enamored with your own chest, which is nothing in comparison: flat but not strong, not experienced, not anything special. You can’t help bringing your hands to his stomach, and splaying your fingers over the muscle. “I never knew,” you admit, your hands going up to his chest, his absence of breasts, “that I liked men.”

He brings one of your hands lower, to his clothed dick, hard beneath your palm. “I’m happy to teach you.”

Again, your lips come together, and the kiss is frantic. You’re both touching each other. His hands slide over your front, his arms wrap themselves around your shoulders. You can’t stop roaming his thighs, clumsily massaging his member through his jeans. You moan when he bites your lip and then wince when he does it again, harder, and you taste iron in your mouth. The pain has you open your eyes. Ash laps at you now like he can’t possibly get enough. He grinds down, hard, and you both groan into each other.

He rushes to pull off both his jeans and underwear and so do you. Your dick is dripping. He kisses you once, licks the taste from your mouth, before getting to his knees. The first lap of his tongue has your mind reeling. He teases you—lapping at your cock in small swipes, teasing the head with his tongue, playing with your foreskin—before finally taking it in his mouth. You want to throw your head back in ecstasy but he’s got you entranced; you can’t look away. Your hand goes to his hair, which is soft in your hands and threads perfectly in your fingers. You don’t push him or guide him. He sucks you off like he’s done this a hundred times before, and you try not to remember that he has.

Your orgasm comes up on you fast. “Ash—” you say. You curse in Japanese. Your accent is thick. “Oh, Ash, I’m so close, please—”

He makes no move away from you. When you come he locks his cherry eyes with yours while he swallows, pumping what his lips don’t reach with his hand until your thighs are twitching and you’re whimpering.

He pulls off of you and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. He sits himself next to you on the bed and collapses backwards, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I love the way you taste,” he says, and you don’t know if he means your come or your blood. He seems blissed out even though he’s still hard. You can’t help but notice that he’s circumcised.

In fascination, your hand goes to his dick. You hear him make a small noise from under his arm. You stroke him, slowly, curiously. You can feel his length jump in your hand and he thrusts just slightly off the bed.

“I want to try,” you tell him.

“I won’t stop you.”

You go on the floor to kneel between his legs and grab hold of him again. He’s flat on the bed. All that you know about sucking dick has officially come from him, now, so you try to imitate what he was doing: you lick at him a little—it just tastes like skin—and tongue the slit of his head. He’s so hard in your mouth. He’s more quiet than you were but you can see his reactions by the way his stomach twitches. You take him into your mouth and his breath catches.

Oh, you like this, you find. You really like this. Your mouth hurts from the bite he gave you but you don’t let that stop you. It doesn’t take him that long to come. His thighs clench and you don’t pull off, instead feeling it hit your tongue and your throat. The vileness of the taste surprises you and you can’t help pulling off and spitting it onto a nearby discarded shirt. When you look up, he’s looking at you. “How did you do that?” you ask him.

“I’m just used to putting gross things in my mouth.”

“It was bad.” You’re too tired to cycle through your vocabulary of synonyms for the best word to use in English here. He gestures his arms out for you to fill, so you rise and do. But on the bed the way you embrace each other has you holding him rather than vice versa.

His face is buried in your chest. This Ash feels so different from the one who murdered two men and the one who froze at Dino Golzine’s touch. But you know he’s the same. He’s the one who made sure a strange drunk boy was brought somewhere safe in the night, and who made you ramen when he didn’t have to. “Stay with me,” he says. His voice is soft as his hair.

You want to say,  _ Forever _ . You wonder how he’d react. It feels true though: you never want to leave his side. Whatever he’s fighting for with Dino is your business now and you’ll help however you can. But you hold your tongue.

“Okay,” you say, and he squeezes you in response.


End file.
